


Licorice and Mint - Book 1 - Part 4 - A Thousand Ways to Overdrive

by elle_and_em



Series: Licorice and Mint [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Coming of Age, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, F/F, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Original Character(s), Punk Rock, Retro-wave, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:47:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_and_em/pseuds/elle_and_em
Summary: Vola's harrowing journey through the sewers has come to an end.   Whether she survives to see the next day depends on "The Doc".  However, Nat and the clinic has changed a lot since their last meeting.  Last time she had to bend the rules to save the Half-Orc.  This time she may have to break them.This work cites lyrics from: Bad Cop Bad Cop, Gunship, The Midnight, Whitney Houston, and The Exploited.  All rights belong to the respective recording artists.
Series: Licorice and Mint [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962421
Kudos: 2





	1. It's Their Fight To Lose

**_Licorice and Mint - Part 4 - "A thousand ways to overdrive"_ **

By elle and em

_"It's my life to choose_  
_Not big and dumb misogynists,_  
_Not even all of liberalists_  
_It's their fight to lose_  
_I'm a model anarchist,_  
_A punk rock existentialist,_  
_Who wants to make the whole world feminist"_  
_Bad Cop Bad Cop - Womanarchist_

======================================================================

Nat sat in her office tapping her foot in time to  _ Bad Religion’s “Fuck You” _ . Between the music and some cheap coffee, she was barely staying focused on the mountain of reports and paperwork sitting on her desk. 9pm and she was still in the office because...fuck it, why not? Who else was gonna do it?

In the 2 weeks since the Rise Against show, the church council had delivered another cut to her budget and a round of staff recalls. The clinic was now manned only by her and two other sullen Aasimar nurses. Both made a habit to be off the clock and out of the office at 5pm sharp, no matter how many people were sitting in the lobby. 

However, the Church’s attempts to hobble the clinic only helped Nat’s secret plans. She had been rationing several supplies and medicines, and supplementing with herbal remedies and potions from the book she had purchased. Lively “teaching” debates with Innani on her lunch break gave her a sounding board, as they debated which cures were viable and which ones weren’t. When she wasn’t drowning in patients and paperwork, she was mixing and testing potions on herself in the clinic's back room. She could easily hide supplies and refuse in the boxes, moving them with ease to the garbage with no one the wiser. The best part of being a divine healer was that if you poisoned yourself accidentally, then you could just magic away the damage.

She had been meeting almost daily with Innani and thanks to her enhanced studies, she went from stumbling over the basics of folk remedies to being able to argue the merits and flaws of them. Every day she would hint at being interested in brewing some of her own, only to be met with a firm refusal by the shop owner.    
  
She had decided to give up on asking on Wednesday when Innani surprised her by stopping the Aasimar before she left and placed the large leather case on the counter. It was multi-tiered and had folding drawers inside with plenty of room for brewing implements and jars of components. It contained a mortar and pestle, along with a set of vials. She was told basic chemistry tools would be adequate for anything she didn’t have easy access to, but was advised to cleanse and prepare the tools ritualistically using some of the basic folk techniques outlined in her herbology tome.    
  
The gift didn’t come cheap though. Everything included ran about nine hundred dollars total, which hit her savings a bit harder than she wanted to admit. But it was worth it. Nat never knew what prompted Innani to change her mind, but she was grateful, as were her patients who benefitted from her switch to Gnomish Icicle drops as a numbing agent when she was running low on lidocaine. After all her years of relying on the most cutting edge medical technology and techniques, it felt strange to find inspiration and drive in old world solutions. Making that first batch of icicles made her feel powerful and proud. It was the ultimate DIY expression of her identity. 

When she wasn’t healing herself from an experiment gone wrong, she was at home practicing her magic, doing chores, and meditating on cycling the energy up within herself so she could recharge faster. And while there was no overt magic allowed in the clinic itself, there was a natural “warmth and positivity” from the doctor that seemed to ease the worst cough, or pull the ache out of bones. It wasn’t powerful healing like she had done for Vola, but it was still a little bit here and there. Enough that no one noticed. 

  
  
Her outreach to local organizations, specifically Queer-youth and Homeless Support Services, has been met met with some skepticism at first. But the more people spoke of “The Angel of Lower Silks” in hushed tones, the faster the distrust melted. Requests for help at a charity event or community clinic would come through her private email. In exchange for her sleepless night and caring manners, excess medical supplies would be transported back to the clinic with the doctor when she needed a ride back. Sometimes mysterious packages would be left, the label simply reading “for the angel.”

All of this didn’t help the clinic’s money problems though. It wasn’t her patients’ fault they couldn’t pay. Since they were technically a private organization, the church could charge exorbitant rates, outside of any government regulated guidelines. Most patients signed up for fee waivers almost immediately, and who could blame them? The church didn't play nice with most insurance companies and the fees without insurance were staggering.

Eventually, Nat just quit asking people to fill out the form and started to take whatever people could offer. She was shocked at how much the people of the Lower Silks relied on bartering. While the church didn’t engage in such practices themselves, the lack of money was not unusual to her. On the campus, everyone was granted a stipend to live on. The only reason she had any personal funds was because of her status as a doctor and a future leader. Anyone who was in line to take over a council or leadership position would have to interact with the outside world and play the games of power and money on their terms. While she was sure Mother had never expected her to use these funds in this way, she did take smug satisfaction in the fact that “fake money” was making real change right now. 

In the Silks though, credit meant nearly nothing, and cash was tight. So people traded the way they used to. The way people traded in the Lower Silks hadn't changed much in the last century. Barter and favors were the main currency, and cash was used sparingly. Nat appreciated her temporary home all the more for it. Despite the surreptitious nature of such deals, she knew she would be taken at her word, and she could take others at theirs. 

Thanks to this unspoken honor code, the clinic was always stocked up with odds and ends and sometimes unusual cuisine. All she had to do was apologize for being short on X item or deliver some excitement or praise for someone’s profession or craft, and somehow her patients would remember the doctor’s casual comments at their last visit. They would just happen to be in the neighborhood, and insist on hand delivering wrapped parcels of gratitude to Nat. She didn’t even have to worry about being found out. Silence and caution were traits that everyone in this part of town had, and to deflect unwanted attention, several of these care packages smelled of some unique ethnic cuisine, that immediately made the nurses turn their noses and look away. After accepting the parcel, Nat would whisk away to the back to enjoy some of “specially made pickled pig’s feet”, and find 5 of the 6 jars filled with medical supplies, while one did actually have the dish in question. Thanks to the “Angel’s” understanding of how things worked in the Silks, it became common knowledge that the clinic’s real hours started after 5pm. 

It was a flawless system until the Council meeting call this afternoon, when they asked why there had been no recent applications or waiver submissions. Now another ethical hurdle lay in front of her. Put her patients on the path to a debt that there was no way they could pay off, or defy the elders and risk them looking deeper into how she was running things? As she pondered this decision, she tapped her foot against the large leather case sitting under the desk. The feel of its bulk brought a smile to her lips. It was another sign of the impact she was having in the area. The trust that the Lower Silks put in her. 

Inanni and Wali had begun to regard her as a regular and the local LGBT groups appreciated her contributions, but there was always that tone of “for now” when they talked about the clinic’s presence or Nat’s plans. It was like everyone expected her to suddenly vanish in the night, the same way Vola had with her. Appear, shake her world up, and then poof...gone. 

Truth be told after three weeks, she had started to believe Innani’s assertion that the Half-Orc was dead. The herbalist had warned her that the hunters lived by their own rules and codes, and that their lives could be brutal and short. Nat knew she should let go of this idea of ever seeing the mysterious woman again, but still she looked up hopefully towards the CCTV monitor on her office desk whenever someone new came in after dark.

Tonight was no different. She caught herself continually looking up at the screens as she worked. Words on the paperwork started to blur together, while flashbacks of a porn she watched the night before replayed in her mind. She hadn’t really eaten all day either. Should she really be deciding financial fates on an empty stomach? Nat contemplated closing shop for the night and heading home. Maybe just sleep and store up emotional energy for the inevitable tense “date” with Mara tomorrow night. If the other Aasimar was even interested in coming down \--

_ BANG BANG BANG _

Nat scrambled to her feet and changed the channel on the CCTV monitor to the backdoor. A tall and dirty figure swayed unsteadily, holding themselves up with a clenched fist against the metal doors, clutching their right eye with the other hand. A mop of dirty thin dreadlocks obscured the face, but the Aasimar immediately knew who it was. 

It was her. It had to be.

Nat walked quickly but quietly to the back door. As she reached for the handle, it rattled the door. She fumbled with the line of locks and deadbolts, trying to unlock it as quickly as possible. 

The clicks and scraping of the locks, caused Vola to perk up. “D-Doc? Izzat you? You’re back!?” A hoarse voice begged.

“You’re back!” Nat cheered, swinging the door open. 

Vola released a raspy sigh of relief as all the strength she had left in her faded away. She wasn’t going to die on the streets as whatever it was she was becoming. She had a chance. The delirious pain of withdrawal, the Yuan-Ti Poison coursed in her system, and starvation? The Doc could heal her right? She solved the damn puzzles in that maze and survived sneaking past the hunting parties and didn’t drown. The Doc’s persistent voice got her through that nightmare, so she wouldn’t let her down now that she reached her goal right?

“Oh my gods! It's you! You’re back! Where did you go!?” As she touched Vola’s arm, strength vanished from the half-orc’s legs, dropping her onto the cold loading bay floor. “I am so sorry! Let me help you up!” She reached to pull the hunter to her feet, but stopped short when the smell of the half-orc hit her.

Vola looked up to see a horrified look on the Aasimar’s face as she pinched her nose closed. Suddenly the triumph of surviving that ancient labyrinth was replaced with petty embarrassment. “Sorry,” she muttered, trying to stand.

“What the hell happened to you!?” Nat said through a pinched nose, offering her free arm to the other woman.

Vola hesitantly removed her hand from over her right eye. She blinked in disbelief at the blackness filling half of her vision. Cold terror shot through her spine at the realization that her entire right eye and socket were gone. “I-I got bit by a snake.”, she joked weakly, slumped as another cold flash of pain went through her face. The skin around her ear and eye tightened like a snake around its prey. A pulse of arcane energy crackled back through her nerves. The enchantments went off like sirens in the back of her mind. The sudden influx of information and pain was too much for her handle. Her good eye rolled up into the back of her head and her body went slack.    
  
Panicking, Nat fired a bolt of healing energy out of her hands into the half-orc. She was shocked when Vola snapped awake, screaming in pain and grabbing the right sight of her face. “Too tight! Too tight! It burns!!” Her healing magic never had caused this reaction before. This was new and even without a divining spell, she knew the other woman didn’t have a lot of time to live. 

The healer threw an arm around Vola’s neck and slid under her left arm. Filthy dreads slapped her in the face. The stench coming off the hunter was palpable, and the bulk of her was slowly crushing Nat. The doctor took a deep breath through her mouth and strained to stand up straight before slowly guiding the larger woman inside the clinic. “Quick quick quick! Exam room 1! Now!”, she barked trying to bring Vola back to consciousness.

The scent and sight of the sterile environment made her wince. Tears formed in her good eye stinging some small cut along the side of her face. The blinding light from the fixtures above filled her with hope. She was inside and in good hands. She wasn’t going to die. More tears streamed down her face cutting through the grime. 

Vola was lowered clumsily down onto the paper covered exam table, arms and legs hanging off the sides awkwardly. Nat panted and coughed as she tried to lift the half-orc’s left leg onto the table. Feeling bad, Vola tried to help, but found her limbs nearly numb and heavy as rocks. 

Once her patient was safely on the table, Nat pulled on a face mask and latex gloves before clicking on a penlight to get a better look at her patient. She had hoped Vola would have come back one day with a new injury and story to tell and a chance to share a bit of her own wondrous magic, but this was too much. Her mind buzzed with dozens of potential diagnoses 

“Doc. My eye? Can you fix it? Please say you can fix it.”

The weak hope in her voice caused the Aasimar to pause and take a breath. Despite the dozens of things she could see was wrong here, she had to make her patient’s main concern her own. She aimed at the penlight at the strange growth covering her face, but then dropped the light after brushing some dreads out of her way. She felt what little food in her stomach threatened to come up, as her mind spiraled at the eldritch illness that was consuming the other woman.

Forcing all emotion from her voice she said firmly. “You have a growth of some sort over your eye and it appears to be spreading down your face. It looks reptilian in nature, like an exotic snake. White and purple scales. It's sealed over your eye and is spreading in a random manner, like it was splashed on you. Huh.”

The reply was a confused whimper.

Picking up the light from the floor she watched as Vola’s “good eye” tracked her, bloodshot and yellowed. Dry and cracked lips quivered in fear, while a pleading expression was plastered across her gaunt face. Grey-green skin pulled tight over her cheek bones. Cheeks sunken and sallow. The combined scent of blood, sewage, and body odor created an almost iridescent haze around the woman. Nat bit the inside of her cheek to chase away a jolt of helplessness. So many injuries and problems to fix but where to start? She cleared her throat, and willed away all emotion again. Just as she had been taught in the High Abbey. “When did you last eat? Have you done any narcotics in the past few hours? No judgement but I need to know.”

“D-d-dunno. Four days...maybe. Th-th-thirsty…” Vola stuttered. When she didn’t get a reply, she turned her head to see Nat silently studying her. Not moving or saying a word. A sharp tug from one of the scaled patches on her face sent memories of the tunnels screaming back. The doc down there was nothing more than a hallucination, but this one was real right?    
  
“Are you still there? You didn’t leave me again did you? I got out, just like you said I would. You can fix this right?” The silence was unnerving. The doc was real right? Maybe she was still in the tunnels and this was like the last nightmare. Any minute Nat would look up at her with slitted eyes and...

“Stay still,” the Aasimar said coldly,  holding up a softly glowing hand . With a word of some strange language, motes of white energy flew slowly from her palm and bounced off Vola’s skin, returning to her hand in varying shades of red, purple and yellow. “Interesting,” she muttered as the motes of light translated their hues into specific types of maladies and the severity of them based on their color intensity. _ Poison for sure but what kind? Something Biological. Yes...it's adapting, so biological. Also enchanted or generating its own magic. How? It also feels...angry? Patient? Intelligent. Maybe not as smart as you and me, but...like an animal...a virus? Possibly? Maybe it was a mixture of poison with a blood containing virulent bacteria?  _

The data continued to flow around her mind as her enchantments worked to piece together the puzzle that was Vola’s condition. She shook her head as the influx of information kept coming back to the same conclusion. “Whatever this is, it’s attacking your body. Like it’s trying to erase your genetic code and replace it with its own.” Nat opened her eyes and blinked a few times as some of less confusing diagnoses bubbled up into her mind. “Plus you’re clearly coming down from something and haven’t eaten in several days. What about water?”

Vola shook her head, her single eye fixed on the doctor, still tearing up, begging for some good news. 

Nat sighed. The spell was still sorting information, and it was hard to breathe in the room. She needed fresh air and a moment to think. Plastering on the most reassuring smile she had, she bounced on her heels and patted Vola on the arm. “Let’s do something about you being thirsty okay? Gotta keep you hydrated if we’re gonna get you better. I gotta pop down to the supply room. Just next door. Not far okay?” She forced confidence and warmth into her voice, as she stepped outside, but let all of it go as she plastered herself against the wall once outside and took several deep breaths, and slapped her cheeks three times. 

“Okay. Okay. Okay. You can do this Natalyiah. You’ve been wondering about her. Here she is. You gonna let her down? No. You gonna show her what real magic healing is? Hell yeah. Does she need a bath first? Fuck yes!”

“You were waiting for me?” came the weak whisper from the other room. 

A blush crossed Nat’s face. “Oh. Sorry. Heh...at least your hearing is still really good.”

Vola weakly nodded and began to shiver. “Y-you could j-just tell me I s-stink ya kn-know.”, she joked.

Nat gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Your sense of humor is working. Good. So that will help, but truthfully we got a lot to do here. We need to check for infections, get you on an IV for fluids and nutrients, and I’m trying to work out what’s going on with your skin, but first things first...clean. Do you have enough strength to get undressed?”

Before Vola could reply, a shrill voice screamed from the lobby. “Natalyiah Shaviantar! Where are you!?”

A cold shock locked Nat’s feet in place. What was Mara doing here? The sound of the front door slamming closed and angry steps approaching the hallway snapped the Aasimar back to reality. She smiled weakly at a confused Vola. “Uh...one moment.”

Pulling the exam door closed behind her, Nat felt the itch of her immolation prickle along the back of her forearms and cheeks. A hot irritating ember stabbed at the back of her throat spreading up into her mouth. Memories of the fight from a few weeks back returned. The sight of a burned flyer. The hateful words. She’d been learning to trust that she and her fire had to work together. She had to listen to this spark of Shatrava’s heart, as it was often more true than her own anxieties. And right now the spark was angry. 

Nat stormed into the lobby. There, wearing her usual hoodie and sweatpants was Mara, with pink eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin angry line, and amber eyes glowing bright. Nat could feel the lecture threatening to erupt from Mara’s mouth when her mask of judgement melted into one of disbelief. Her beloved stared at her as though she was some stranger, and truth be told she probably looked like one. A rainbow pride pin on the pocket of her lab coat. A studded leather band around her left wrist. Dark eyeshadow and eyeliner adorning her lavender skin and blue eyes. A streak of soft pink nestled in the blinding white of her long hair. The tight-fitting t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Nat could see the burgeoning punk she wanted to be reflected in the shock of Mara's amber eyes. 

“What are you doing here!?” Nat demanded. “Isn’t this a breach of your precious vows!” The fire in her words was stronger than she wanted, but her divine spark purred with bliss as it fed the catharsis she had been denying it for so long. It wouldn’t be fed diplomacy and compromise this time. Not with everything on the line tonight. 

“I could ask you the same thing! It's after 9! Why are you still open!?”

“I have a critical patient in the back! I am working and you coming in here screaming like a maniac isn’t helping! Besides, it isn’t Sunday yet! I thought I didn’t exist to you until Sunday afternoon!” Nat snarled. 

“A patient!? At this hour!? You shouldn’t be seeing anyone right now! You should be home! Sleeping!”

Nat narrowed her eyes and began pushing Mara back towards the door. “Well I’m not! I’m here doing what I promised the church and our goddess what I would do with my Trial! And I’m doing it at 9pm on Saturday alone, because I am being hamstrung by everyone every step of the way! Because I have no more night time staff and dozens of patients I need to update charts on! Because you refuse to be of any support to me on any level except when it's convenient for you!” She got in closer, eyes burning bright and a shimmer of heat radiating from her. Mara stepped back involuntarily as Nat’s divine fire began to over power her own anxious immolation. “So just go home and let me get back to it!”

The other Aasimar grabbed the door frame and inhaled sharply to retort, but instead gagged and stumbled as the smell of hot sewage wafted from Nat’s direction. Slapping a hand over her mouth she choked back some vomit. “What in the name of the goddess!? What have you been rolling in? Don’t you bathe anymore!?” 

“It’s my patient, and they aren’t the worst I’ve dealt with! Now go home! I have work to do!”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me so you can sneak out and be with that Tiefling whore! That’s what this is isn’t it? Or some other girls with hideous hair that wear nothing! You’re even starting to look like these outsiders with the makeup and that leather thing you wear, and those shirts!”

The bait to drag the fight out further was there but she was steadfast. “I have a patient. Go home. We can scream at each other tomorrow,” she growled. 

“A patient or a ‘patient’?” Mara sneered, making air quotes.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re cheating on me,” the other woman announced with conviction.

“Cheating!?”, Nat shrieked. The realization that Mara seriously thought she was capable of this hit her in the chest like a hammer. The disrespect she had been shown by the council for the past several months was bad enough, but now Mara? After everything she had done to prove herself, it still wasn’t enough? Nat let her Divine Fire do the speaking for her as another intense surge of heat rolled off her forcing Mara a bit further out the door. 

“I have been nothing but loyal and patient and caring of your fucking needs Mara!” She roared. “Every single one of your insane vows! And despite that, when it comes to anything I need or want to share with you, I’m the bad guy and sinner! Do you think if I was cheating on you we would be having this same fight over and over….”

“D-doc?” Vola’s strained voice drifted from down the hallway, dragging her focus back to the current crisis. “D-doc? I-I n-eed s-some h-help. I-I hsssssssss--” Her words were cut short by the sound of a meaty hand slapping over a mouth. The diagnostic magic tethering the doctor to her patient fed new data into her mind’s eye. Pale purple and yellow dots were entangling themselves around the golden threads of energy and turning vibrant, while the red virulent motes were growing. It was getting stronger. She gave a worried look back towards the hallway.

“Wh-what IS that?” Mara demanded.

“My patient! Now go home!”

“That sounds like way more than you can handle! Send her to the ER or I will call the ambulance for you now!”

Nat wasn’t sure exactly what part of the statement triggered it, but something in that moment forced her to think about her mother. The Superior. The authoritative divine aura she often found herself withering in the presence of. No one would ever doubt or challenge her mother like this. So why should she?    
  


The heat of her immolation shifted from a hot angry red to a cold merciless white. This new fire didn’t buck and snarl. It consumed whatever it was she laid her gaze upon. There were no arguments in her mind anymore. Her skin began to turn a deep purple, while the blue in her eyes changed to an unyielding bright white. She could hear a new voice from behind the spark of divine fire in her heart. Louder. Calmer. Wiser. She locked gazes with her girlfriend and pointed to the door, letting this new divine power speak for her. “Go. Before I call the police and have you removed,” she said with no emotion in her voice.

  
Mara froze in her place. Every ounce of her upbringing told her this was the light of a Radiant. Nat may be Embered like her but right now, somehow, she was Her Superior, and she had been given a command. Memories of their fight from last week started to bubble back up. Her own frustration with the stalemate they had found themselves at lately, and Nat’s inability to see how easy and simple it was to live if she just upheld her vows.   
  
  
As the cold burn of Nat’s Radiant power washed over, conveying all the rage and authority that her voice didn’t, Mara felt the firm bedrock of her own convictions falter. Nat was displaying the power of a Radiant, and if she changed like this when she became Superior, then what did that mean for the balance she always promised Mara in their relationship? What would that mean for their future, if one was to lead and the other was to obey? Unable to look at her girlfriend without feeling divine guilt twist in her gut, the silver-grey Aasimar, turned and ran off into the night. 

Waiting until Mara disappeared around the corner into the neighboring parking garage, Nat locked the door and closed the blinds before wobbling into a chair, releasing her hold on the cold imperious power she had just channeled. Her own words echoed in her mind. Hugging herself tightly she bent over and wordlessly sobbed for a moment. She wanted to forget every second of that moment. That she had said those words to Mara. That she treated her girlfriend as a lower caste and not a person. That she sounded like her mother. That she understood her mother a bit more, and hated herself for it.  
  
  
Taking three deep breaths, she stood back up and wiped away her tears, before walking back into the exam room with a confident look on her face. “Sorry about that,” she apologized warmly and found Vola struggling to get out of her shirt, same as the first time the y met. She reached to start pulling the half-orc out of the foul-smelling clothing when a muffled voice whimpered from underneath the folds. “Wh-who was that, Doc?”  
  
  
Nat gently eased her out of the ruined shirt, careful not to pull the cloth over any open wounds or the infected areas and tossed it into a corner. “That was my girlfriend, who decided tonight of all nights to actually see me at work. Sorry you had to hear that, but now you have my undivided attention.” She started to fiddle with Vola’s belt. 

“N-no!” She yelped, and jumped from the table backing against the wall. 

Nat held up both hands in surrender, hurt decorating her face. “Whoa! Look. I’m sorry. She barged in. And I wasn’t aware she was even in town and….” The concern and hope that previously radiated from the doctor was replaced with something weaker, more vulnerable. “If this is about what she said. About cheating and if you were someone other than a patient I promise I’m not like that...I’m not...I wouldn’t. I mean...look...up front. I’m gay, but I’m a professional and despite what you heard I do love her very much and would never…”

A moment of space was all the hunter needed to assess her surroundings. She was in the clinic and in the care of someone who had helped her before. She took a ragged breath and watched the doctor carefully for a moment. She had seen that look on the Aasimar’s face before. A fear of rejection. Maybe she had even worn it at some point herself, when she gave a damn about what others thought. Vola peeled away from the wall and leaned back onto the table. “It's...it's not that doc. Just...in the dark too long. Too many nightmares. Too many enemies. I promise...I can do this.”

Nat lowered her hands slowly and nodded. “O-okay. I’m a healer...not a predator. I promise. I would never…” She left the room quietly to continue fetching the supplies. Vola finished clumsily getting undressed, doing her best to toss each soiled article into the bag. The doctor’s confidence was clearly shaken by the intruder, Vola’s outburst and, she assumed, whatever power it was that she used in the lobby. She had stressed how serious Vola’s condition was, and the hunter had fought all this way just to get help and survive. She knew she had to let the doc take the lead. Ahroun’s pride nearly got her killed in the sewers. She refused to let her own kill her now. 

She fumbled into the paper gown and tried her best to get to the ties in the back but it was hard enough untying knots just now much less tying them. Nat returned hauling a large cardboard box under one arm and a leather case in her other hand. She struggled to slide the case towards the counter with her foot while she rooted around the box, presenting a plastic tube with a bright blue lotus on it to the half-orc. She kept her eyes averted as she nudged it in Vola’s direction. “Cleaning wipes. Church brand. They will sterilize and get you cleaner than a bath sometimes. I can step out while you…”

Vola pushed the tube back towards her. “Doc. Listen. I don’t think you’re a predator. I wouldn’t be here if I did. I’m sorry I jumped. I’m not used to people being handsy, and down there I went out of my way to avoid being grabbed by anything. It was just...a reaction. Nothing personal.” 

“Really?” The doctor’s voice sounded soft and hopeful.

“Yeah. Really and honestly…I may need some help.”, she said weakly. “I can’t feel my fingers so well.”

“But just now...”

  
“It wasn’t because you’re gay. Just not used to real help. Not used to your real voice.”

“My real voice?” The Aasimar cocked her head and opened the tube. “I don’t get it but...okay. You just tell me when you want to take over.”

Vola did her best to not flinch as Nat dragged the cool cotton wipes were dragged across her slimy skin. She knew the doc was still reeling from whatever that argument was and her reaction just now. She had to let her show her that she trusted her. The sharp tang of astringent and something light and flowery replaced the rancid odor that had followed her from the sewers. As the doctor gently wiped down her face and the scales she gave a sharp hiss, causing the healer to recoil again. “Ssssorry,” she whispered, suddenly slapping a hand over her mouth again, scared of her own mutating voice. 

  
“For?”

  
“Freaking out. You being gay isn’t an issue. Promise. I don’t judge. No room.”

“I’m sorry too. I should have been more mindful and remembered your first visit. How I asked before I did something.”

“Ssssss’not a problem.” Vola winced. “I mean...I’m dying right...or worse. No better time for a fresh start. Agreed?”

“No you won’t.” Nat said firmly. “I mean..die...or worse.” She held up a fresh wipe. “And yeah...fresh start. May I?”

Vola nodded as Nat lost herself in the motions of gently and professionally cleaning the half-orc, working quietly until she found the tube of wipes empty. As the smell of rot evaporated, so did the awkwardness of the past few moments. Fear radiated from her patient who was still twitching slightly as she started to clean down her back. The Half-Orc had gone silent, and that was bad considering she was unsure just what this mutation was. 

“So, just now. What did you mean by my real voice?” Before Vola could answer she set the wipes on a tray next to her. “Here. Do you think you can start cleaning your chest and thighs? Be sure to be thorough. Clean as you can.”   
  
  
Vola nodded and tugged a few of the damp squares out dragging them across and under her breasts. “I um...down there, I saw and heard things. You were one of them. Though you were a lot more bossy.”, she chuckled. 

Another sharp sting radiated across her brow as a cleansing chill slid down the scaled patch on her face. “Ah..!”

“Sorry”, Nat apologized as she wiped. “The fact that this stings is a good thing by the way. It means they’re working.”

The news filled her with relief. Vola let herself fall back onto the bed with a tired laugh. “Do you think I’m gonna live?” She asked. A warm exhaustion started to fill her, tempting her with the sweet release of a deep slumber. From deep in her mind a soft chanting filled the background noise where the sounds of the building once had been. Something ancient and guttural that soothed her filling in all the empty spots where silence had once been. She remembered the ancient words from the sewers. The dark hymn that the Yuan-Ti sang as their captives drank that vile liquid. So why did they sound like a lullaby now?

A loud thump brought her back to consciousness. From outside her field of vision she could hear the clatter of wheels and rattle of something metallic. “I want to say yes, but that is going to depend on your honesty with me.” the doctor said firmly. "You’re also not done getting clean. I can still smell some of the sewage. I need you to wipe down again. Stay focused while I look some things up.” Vola was forced back up into a sitting position, and the tube of wipes put back into her field of view. “I also need to get fluids and something resembling food in you as well. Right now you’re operating with an empty tank.” Nat pulled a length of tubing and needle out of the box. “You’re not squeamish about needles are you?”   
  
Vola shook her head and watched quietly as the Aasimar hung a bag of saline from the IV stand. Where the hum of the lights should have been, she heard the same looping chant. Words from some vile language lost to the modern world, linked together with a hypnotic hiss and guttural rattling. Once again it began as a simple whisper, but the longer she lost herself within its looping melody, the louder it got. Primal fear jolted her back up into a sitting position. Nat cleared her throat. “You sure you don’t have a thing about needles?” 

“N-no. No I really don’t. Just um…” She fumbled around for how to explain this to the doc but something was holding her back. Was it the infection? Was it sentient? “Uh doc? Do you hear that?”   
  
The Aasimar cocked an ear toward the ceiling. “Hear what?”

  
Vola tried to focus on the chant again, to describe it but another reprise looped around the notion and dragged it back within its musical coils. The words to describe it were gone. “N-nothing. So...tell me about that girl of yours.”

The tired look on the Aasimar’s face spoke volumes about the relationship, and honestly dating drama was the last of things that Vola cared about, but she needed something to distract her from the serpentine song. “I mean...you’re helping me. Maybe I can lend a helping um...ear?” She gave a crooked grin, and held her arm out for the IV. 

A tourniquet wrapped around her arm and the sharp tap of fingers along the veins in her forearms reminded her of the scars the doc would find there. The signs of fun times with Dahl or when she got hurt really badly on a hunt and something stronger than whiskey was needed to stop the nightmares. If the Aasimar judged her for the track marks she didn’t make any indication of it. “Not much to say. She’s been a bitch lately”. Part of her flinched at using the word in relation to Mara, but her Divine Fire purred happily, enjoying another nugget of catharsis, urging the Aasimar to indulge it further. 

  
“I mean, I try to be respectful of her needs and stuff, but she isn’t respecting mine. And I’m not cheating on her by the way. That would imply that I’ve had sex or even had the chance to talk to another girl.” There was a bitterness to her final thought that she hadn’t intended. Was she interested in talking to another woman, or was that just reaction to Mara’s accusations.

Vola winced as the IV sunk into her arm. “So there’s no hot Tiefling?” she laughed.

“The ‘hot Tiefling’ was a burlesque dancer on a flyer that she found in my apartment. I don’t know her. Not personally. Seen her in person but I know she’s not gay.”

“You sound disappointed,” Vola noted. The cool rush of fluids into her veins made that urge to fall asleep stronger. She had to keep talking. “I thought you church types frowned on premarital sex, much less sex with other races.”

The sound of sneakers stomping towards the counter let the half-orc know she hit a vein of her own. “I mean...that didn’t come out right. I didn’t think…”

“It's fine. Not like my people have done anything to dispel those rumors, and you aren’t wrong. Sex before marriage happens, but we don’t talk about it, or we didn’t until I started making them all aware Queer and Trans Aasimar exist. Not like it matters because the woman keeps shoving her purity in my face until we are married, which is no time soon.”   
  
  
“Busy careers?” Vola asked carefully.

“Civil rights,” Nat snarled. “And that fight is currently on hold because I’m out here, and I have no clue if the rest of my friends or my girlfriend are doing anything else, because she’s taken a vow to separate life on campus from my life here. I can’t even talk to her about work. It’s...she’s...I’m...isolated.”

  
She stood up abruptly and started going through the leather case she had dragged in with her. Vola felt a pang of sympathy for the younger woman. How many times had she seen this happen in the Silks? Another bright soul beaten down by the harsh realities of the world, when all they want to do is make it a better place. On her first visit, the hope and determination that radiated from the doctor was obnoxiously bright, but now it felt dimmer, a lot more hardened. Even the way she dressed was different. A fair cry from the professional who had kept Vola sane down in the dark. Nat was just as mortal and broken as she was, and that was oddly comforting. From somewhere within the serpent chant, the memory of a cold fall morning came back to her. The sound of Ahroun’s voice reminding her of her place in the world. The sound of a crumpled college brochure hitting the frost covered ground. 

A few muffled swears roused the half-orc’s curiosity enough to sit up and focus on what Nat was working on now. It was then she noticed the other outrageous sign that the past weeks had changed the Aasimar drastically. 

Vola immediately recognized the alchemist case. It was something she had always wanted herself, but Ahroun considered it unnecessary. Even if he had agreed, the twins would have claimed it as their own and stored their sex toys and gods knows what in it. So it remained one of those wants she learned to live without. Why did the doc have one?

Nat extracted a small jar of purple goo from the depths of the bag, and held it to the light, squinting slightly at the contents. Turning away from Vola, she busied herself for a moment, before returning with two gel capsules in same color. She passed them to Vola in a small plastic cup. “Put these under your tongue and let them dissolve. Don’t swallow the paste. Let it dissolve.”   
  
  
“What is it?” she asked skeptically. 

“It's how we are going to get basic nutrients in you for now.”

The dodged question didn’t sit well with her. “What are these, Doc? Why do you have alchemy supplies?”

“Because magic and medicine can’t solve everything,” she replied firmly. “Those are what we are going to have to use because you aren’t reacting well to healing spells. Which means I can’t miracle you into being hale and hearty. I ran out of Banana Bags two nights ago and I dunno when I’m getting more.” She held up the bottle. “So...herbalism is what we got unless you got a problem with it.”

“I just want to know what I’m taking is all.” Vola forced her voice to sound more curious than cautious. 

A sly smile playing at the corner of Nat’s mouth let the half-orc know she had found someone else who took pride in some of the ancient arts. She knew that look. It was the same one she had when she enchanted a new weapon or got a runic ward to activate right. “That is Goodberry paste,” the doctor explained. “Old druidic remedy based on rudimentary survival magic. Pack a single edible berry with all the hydration and sustenance you would need for a whole day. But berries don’t keep and I can’t channel plant magic the way druids do, so it's a non-magical derivative, packaged in a way that doesn’t freak people out. The effect only lasts for a few hours, but that’s all we really need.”

“Oh.” Vola marveled at the caplets before sliding them past her dry lips and under her tongue. A moment later the bittersweet taste of some unknown berry filled her mouth. It was like grape jam that had been in the fridge too long, but the taste was minor in comparison to the relief her stomach felt as days of hunger cramps unwound. Another wave of exhaustion hit, and the chanting grew louder. Now she could make out familiar voices joining the chorus. The raspy and tired voices of Ahroun and Doran. The broken and off-key twang of the twins. The high-pitched but hopeful Gaius. Their voices shouldn’t merge as beautifully as they sounded but maybe it was less their voices and more of their timing and unity. The peace in their voices as they droned on in the guttural tongue, sometimes stopping to breath and hiss, before starting again. 

The sound of a metal trash can lid slamming closed broke her from the trance, making her jump. She accidentally slapped herself in the face with a few of her dreads. The rancid smell filling her nostril let her know that she still had much to clean up. Grateful for the newfound distraction, she reached for another wipe, going over her dreads one by one. The chant was getting harder to ignore or even talk about. She wanted to say something but instead she latched on to the residual taste of fermented berries and the lack of stomach cramps. “That’s really clever, doc. You make those yourself?”

“Yep! Same way we’re gonna figure out how to cure this infection. You mind a couple hard questions?” 

Vola shook her head lazily as Nat checked the IV line. A firm tap on her elbow snapped her awake. "No sleeping." The doctor pulled out a large worn blue tome from the bag and sat it down on a table nearby. "So what did you hunt? What did this?"

Memories of the horrific descent into the ritual chamber flooded back. She winced and gripped the side of the table. "Y-yuan-ti." 

Nat's eyes were this size of saucers. "The ancient snake people? They still exist?"

"Very much so." 

"There's stories of Embered Knights from the church hunting them to extinction though!" Nat exclaimed. "Huh...another lie," she murmured bitterly as she focused back on the book. "Was this magic or poison or a disease?" 

The comment struck Vola as odd and she fought an urge to probe further. If the Aasimar had experience with the Yuan-Ti, then why were there no mention of them in the research she found? “I think poison."

"Can you explain?" A latex finger traced one of the thin lines of scales along the side of her ears.

"There was this...liquid. They were forcing captives to drink it. It was turning them. I think it's how they have survived."

"Forced transmutation?" The shock in her voice revealed how unnerved the doctor was. "And people were drinking it? You were drinking it?"

Vola shook her head. "Captives, not volunteers. And no...some splashed on me though. Didn't get inside me."

Nat wanted to ask more about why the hunters had gone after a supposed extinct demonic race and if they had rescued anyone from such horrors, but the haunted look on the half-orc’s face stopped her. She was also curious at the soft whispers coming from her patient.

"What are you singing?"

"Huh?" Vola jerked awake. 

"You were chanting. Quietly." 

"I was?"

Nat hummed the winding melody of the chant Vola had been whispering, and the hunter’s blood went cold. "You can hear it too now?"

"Hear it? No! You were the one singing it. Wait what do you mean ‘now’?"

Vola stiffened up. "I'm turning into one? Maybe I did swallow some. Maybe some got in a cut when I fell all that way," she panicked.

"What!?"

"N-nothing." Another strong round of chants looped around her intent to share anything about the song haunting her. Wordlessly she opened and closed her mouth trying desperately to blurt anything about this song out. 

Nat sighed. "Okay so broken ribs and internal damage on the list too." She folded her arms. "I get that there may be some things you can't tell me but you're severely wounded and poisoned, I think. I need to know everything you may have been bit, stung, stabbed or even listened to. Especially if you're hearing chants."

A silent and terrified look from her patient, prompted her to clarify. "In the church, we use hymns and chants to help us or our charges slip into a trance-like state when healing. The mind becomes relaxed and the body is more receptive to medicine or magic. I think that's what's happening here. The poison isn't in your system...yet. My scan spell confirmed it was only affecting your skin, and not internally but it's aggressive. This...chant may be viral too. Like a song stuck in your head. It wants to lull you to sleep and while you sleep…"

"The poison finishes the job," Vola finished. Her voice was hollow with disbelief. "So what does that mean from here?" 

"The good news is if it's not inside you then we can still neutralize the infection and stop it from spreading. It's why I can't do any magic though. My magic was healing it. Not you. We also need to keep you awake. Keep you fighting." She put her stethoscope on Vola's back to hear her breathing. The rattle that echoed in her ears disturbed her. "How did you manage with these wounds as well?"

"Coke," the hunter replied quietly. She waited for a noise of disapproval or speech but Nat just moved back to her book flipping pages. 

Vola slowly reached up and touched the patch over her eye. It was smooth and tense. She could feel exactly where scale met skin. "D-doc? What about my eye? Is it still there? Can we save it?"

Nat looked up from a page covered in illustration of various skin rashes, and turned on a penlight, pushing back a veil of pencil thin dreads tracing over the scales with light. She watched with horror as they pulsed and flexed against the half-orc’s skin. However something looked strange. “Hold still.”  
  
  
Vola held her breath as the doctor pressed two fingers above and below the scaly patch. She bit back a small yelp of fear as something cold and metallic pressed against the alien skin Pressing down with her penlight, Nat issued a calm command, looking directly into Vola’s good eye. “Close your left eye, while leaving your right open, and tell me what you see.” 

  
The half-orc struggled to obey, but after a moment of focus she could see a dull red light through the darkness. “I see some kinda light.”

  
Nat pressed down slightly on the patch. “Good. Now try to blink that eye and tell me what you feel.” Vola complied and was shocked as her eyelashes brushed against some unseen surface. 

  
“I-I felt something!” she yelped.   
  
  
“Good! Your eye is still there. Just under a massive patch of scales. We can cut it off after we kill the infection. Key is stopping the growth first.”   
  
  
  
Emboldened by the knowledge she may not lose an eye, Vola sat up and strained again to look into the doctor’s book. “So how do we do that?”

Nat looked up for a moment, taking note of Vola’s attempts to read over her shoulder. Her patient was determined to be part of the solution now. "How is the chanting?" 

Vola listened for a moment. "Quieter. Huh."

“What were you thinking about just now?” Nat asked, wheeling the tray closer to the table, bringing the book closer to her patient. Vola’s good eye was transfixed on the pages. 

“Um...about how to stop this poison?”

“No. Specifically.” Nat flipped a page and noticed an annoyed twitch in Vola’s eyebrow. 

“You’re reading something in Dwarvish about mushrooms,” the hunter admitted. “'I'm not sure what those have to do with my problem though.”

“It was just a page I landed on. Still digging for the right entry based on what we discover.” Taking out her pen light, Nat walked back around to the scale patch again. “So you can read Dwarvish?”

The sudden change in topics made Vola squirm. Was the doc annoyed she was reading over her shoulder? Why was she sounding so skeptical about her abilities? “Y-yeah...some. Mostly Elvish and Draconic though.”

“English, Elvish, Dwarvish and Draconic? Interesting. Do me a favor?” Nat pushed a button on the side of the table slowly raising the half-orc into a reclining position. “Read off that page there. Just a paragraph or so.”

Vola squinted, confused to see the text shift from Dwarvish to Elvish mid-column. “Both languages?” 

Nat waved at nothing and kept the penlight focused on the scales. “No, the Elvish. We know mushrooms aren’t gonna help us. What’s the next section say?”

Clearing her throat, the half-orc vocalized the words and repeated them back in English. “It says  _ ‘maladies and infections born of bad skin’.”  _ She read further down the page and frowned. “Whoever wrote this clearly didn’t proofread either. They structured Elvish sentences with Dwarven Grammar. Godsdamn mess.”

An amused chuckle dragged Vola away from the annoying errors. “What?”   
  


  
“Nothing.” Nat waved. “Keep reading. I think this is what we want, but if it's that garbled we should try to correct for the errors.” When the hunter opened her mouth to protest, Nat shook the penlight in her direction. “Trust me. I’m going somewhere with this. Just read. Let me worry about your eye.”

  
  
As Vola read, Nat muttered a small celestial prayer under her breath. The world turned iridescent, a kaleidoscope of green, orange, yellow, red and purple. At first the rainbow only confirmed the tangled mess in front of her, but a glimmer of gold from under some of Vola’s dreads caught her eye. Pushing back the veil of ropey hair, she whistled at the complex lines of glowing runes etched neatly under the base of her dreads. The chaotic splash of Yuan-Ti scales seemed to avoid any of the tattoos, and the diagnostic spell revealed the corruption was at its weakest here. 

  
“What are these?”   
  
  
  
“Huh? What are what-agh!” Vola yelped as the camera flash turned her world white. 

“These.” Nat slid her phone onto the open book and tapped it. 

  
“Um..tattoos.” Nat clicked her teeth, and Vola reluctantly added, “They’re enchanted. To help me figure out what kinda magic is around me.”   
  
  
“And this one in particular?” The doctor tapped at a line of silver runes etched within thick black bands. 

  
“Huh. Those are protection runes. She never told me she put those in there,” Vola murmured with a tone of admiration.

  
  
“Who’s she?”   
  


  
The half-orc stiffened up immediately. “Just my artist.”

  
  
Nat raised her eyebrow. “Okaaaay. What do they do?”

  
  
“Protection mostly. Fending off mental magic, bad juju, stuff like that.”

“All the same artist?”   
  
  
  
“Y-yeah. Why?” 

“And the chanting?”

“There but…quieter. Like a whisper. What does that have to do with my ink?”

“I’m working on a theory. Keep reading for me.”

  
  
As Vola continued, Nat watched the tattoos resume their bright glow. The brighter they glowed, the dimmer the diagnostic kaleidoscope became. 

  
  
“I got it.”

  
“Got what?”

  
“An idea. First off - how are you feeling? One to ten, if one was the worst day you’ve ever had.”  
  
  
Vola took a moment to assess her physical state. Every inch of her was sore and screaming, but mentally the book in her lap had been better than coffee. For the first time in days, she felt alert, determined, curious. “Four, if you want me to pick a number. I’m managing.”  
  
  
  
“Can you keep reading out of that book while I work on the cure?”

“A what? You know the cure? But I’ve been reading about bunions for the last ten minutes!” 

  
  
“No, not the Dwarven part, the Elvish part.” The bright confidence Vola had hoped to see in the Aasimar’s smile returned. “You found it. It's really  _ bad  _ Elvish from the sounds of it, and I gotta get it perfect so we don’t sear off your skin or worse.” She tapped at the picture of Vola’s tattoos again. “But that’s not all. As you were focusing on the translation, the magic in your tattoos was pushing back against the poison. They’re not just feeding information to you - it’s a reflection of your willpower.”

“S-so I just gotta what? Think it away?” She hoped the skepticism in her voice masked the anxiety at this new information. What else had Quinn not told her about the tattoos?

The doctor snorted. “Hardly! No, we’re a team. You’ll beat it back, I’ll kill it.” Nat stood up and started looking through the jars she had pulled out of the bag. “Once the paste has settled, we wait for it to neutralize the infection. After that we get down to the real magic.” 

The excitement in her voice filled Vola with warm relief. Once again, the smaller woman was staring something hopeless in the face and giving it the middle finger. “So what you’re saying is ‘Mind and Magic over Snake Matter.’”

“Precisely!” Nat exclaimed. Jars clanked as she pulled ingredients out and set them on the counter beside her. “Thing is though, you’ll need to stay as lucid and focused as you are right now. We got it weakened and scared. Also, you can’t misread a single step in this recipe. Everything hinges on that mind of yours. No pressure,” she added with a weak laugh.   
  
  
That same impossible hope that kept Vola going once she figured out the Yuan-Ti markings returned. It was her mind that would save her, not her muscles or rage. Part of her wished she could shove this in Ahroun’s scaly face. The memory surfaced again, a cold morning with frost covering the ground. The crumple of glossy paper as it was thrown to the ground. Ahroun’s breath reeking of sulphur and old beer-- 

The entire right side of her face tensed and spasmed as if it was being crushed.   
  


Nat glanced up in alarm as a cry burst forth from Vola’s lips. She watched in horror as her patient writhed on the bed, the scales pulsing and stretching. “What happened!?”    
  
  
“B-bad memory,” Vola replied through clenched teeth As if acting on its own, her hand crept up to scratch at the scales. She’d free herself if she had to. She’d show Ahroun and-- 

  
  
Nat gently pulled her hand back on the open page of the book. “Look. I know we don’t know each other well, but you have the mental strength to push back a lethal living curse and can speak four languages fluently. You haven’t taken your eyes off this book since I brought it out, and you sounded so excited when I started talking about how your own magic was helping. So I know you can do this. You can stay focused. You can beat back those memories. Mind and Magic, remember?”  
  
  
“B-but I’m changing into…”  
  
  
“Changing into what?” she asked quietly. “We all change. Three weeks ago I changed, ‘cause of you. I turned into someone who wasn’t scared to bend the rules to help others. You changed into someone who wasn’t afraid to ask for help. So how do we want to change tonight?”  
  
  
The memories returned unbidden. The crumpled brochure. The loss of faith in her fearless leader. The small rebellions had begun then. Vola had learned to take what she needed, to assert her independence quietly by working smarter instead of harder. She’d decided that day that she was never going to be the blind berserker he wanted her to be. She’d chosen the hard way, because the easy way was unthinkable. 

  
“Can I get some gloves? I don’t want to smudge the page,” she asked quietly, her tone resolute.  
  
  
Nat nodded with a smile, passing her a pair of latex gloves. “So how long is the recipe saying we need to leave it on you? Gotta think up how to keep you going once we get to that point.”

  
“20 maybe 30 minutes if I read it right. But you know elves and how they measure time. It's always longer for us than they think.”   
  
  
“Okay then...well…one step at a time. Do you mind if I play some music while we do this? It helps me stay focused. Ready to fight!” She pumped the air with her slender fist. “Are you ready to fight?”   
  
  
In response, Vola grinned and began to read.  __ “Ye application of mugwort, and juniper berry extract should be dripped onto a…”  
  
=========================================================================================== 


	2. A Thousand Ways to Overdrive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together Nat and Vola have found a cure, but its going to take precision and focus on both their parts to see the Half-Orc restored. Between every doubtful thought a serpent lays in wait, ready to crush what spirit Vola has left. 
> 
> This work cites lyrics from: Bad Cop Bad Cop, Gunship, The Midnight, Whitney Houston, and The Exploited. All rights belong to the respective recording artists.

**_Licorice and Mint - Part 4 - "A thousand ways to overdrive"_ **

By Elle and Em  
  
  
“ _ She's a bird, she's a sidewinder  
_ _ Just hold on, we're in this together  
_ _ Like a ghost, like a vampire  
_ _ Hey spirit, can I take you home?” _

_ Gunship - “Drone Racing League”  
  
  
=========================================== _

  
An hour later, Vola’s head throbbed. Even with the intake of fluids and the Goodberry pills, it felt like she had vomited glass. Every word above a loud whisper burned. Fortunately, the headache and sore throat wasn’t from the infection. Unfortunately, it was from the blast of punk rock that Nat seemed to like so much. The chanting had been relatively tame in comparison to the litany of curses hammering against her eardrums.

She strained her voice to reach over the music. “Doc!? Doc!? It's a bit loud! Can you turn it down!?” 

“What!? Speak up! I can’t hear you! I need how many ounces of garlic again!?” 

Vola sighed. “2 cloves, mashed into a pulp!” 

Nat gave her a thumbs up. Finding her place again, Vola resumed her translations. At first, she’d questioned why anyone would trust the ancient book, but the criticism had slowly morphed into praise the further she read. The author had outlined the recipes in the heavy and procedural language of the Dragonborns, but swapped out several terms for more nuanced elven words. If Draconic was a road, Elvish was a ladder, each rung a different meaning. Dwarvish, when it appeared, complicated things further. “Rock” in Dwarvish had twenty-seven forms, each intended for a specific purpose. Often, Vola found herself guessing, paging back, and triple-checking her translations before reciting them out loud to Nat.

After hours of painstaking work, a gritty, mint-green paste sat in the bottom of the bowl. Vola fidgeted with a small pumice stone in her hand, forcing herself to shout along to what she believed to be the most sophisticated songs ever written about the needs and drives of all mortal beings. 

_ Sex and Violence! Sex and Violence! Sex and Violence! Sex and! Violence! Sex and! Violence! _

__

The sudden tap on the shoulder jerked Vola awake. “The music not helping?” Nat asked, worried.

__

When had Vola closed her eyes? “Just...got a headache,” she replied. “Thought it was okay to close my eyes for a second since I was singing along but... it’s like it's waiting for me to drop my guard now. I think it’s the, er...repetition.”

__

“Oh...well I got some Avant-garde Noize rock. Lotsa guttural screaming in that too. It may…”

Vola shook her head. “I appreciate that, but--”

__

“Not your cup of tea?”

“Sorry,” Vola murmured, slightly ashamed. She should be more grateful since Nat was doing all she could to keep her conscious. Maybe if they started talking about alchemy again? “S-so how’s it coming along? Were you able to find a substitute for the rose thorns?” 

The Aasimar gave her a strange look. “Yeah...the pumice. The thorns only acted as an abrasive. Your suggestion, remember? ‘Fancy-ass way of scratching the skin’?”

“Oh yeah. That’s right!” A pulse of pride pushed the exhaustion back for a moment. She found the energy to smile at the small victory. “Honestly I’m surprised they didn’t use something so obvious to begin with.” 

“So you said earlier. Along with a 5 minute lecture on how half the steps in elvish enchantments are just ‘for flavoring’. You’re forgetting things again.”

__

“Sorry. Just tired.”

__

“Hang in there. You’re doing great, especially under the circumstances. Honestly, it was a lot easier to follow along than I thought. You’re a pretty good teacher, ” Nat said with admiration in her voice. 

__

“Really? I guess.” 

__

“Is this something they teach in hunter school?”

Vola scoffed. “I wish. No school. Just learn on your feet with every job and hope you live long enough to use it.”

“So you hunt big nasty monsters and you’re a mage?”

__

“A mage? Ha. No. I just...I know how this stuff works. It’s not hard.”

“You mean you know how a very specialized skill that many people spend lifetimes mastering just ‘works’, and that doesn’t impress you? Sounding more like a mage to me.”

“It’s a hobby, doc. Same as alchemy. I know how to build shelves, but that doesn't make me a carpenter..” A sharp pull on the scales made her suck her teeth. 

__

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself. It's not helping.”

__

“I’m not lying,” she grumbled.

__

Nat rolled her eyes. “You have a living lie detector trying to eat your face right now. The truth is written on your face, and is sitting in that beaker. Ready to be tested. Remember what I said about your willpower?”

Vola nodded silently. 

__

Nat went back to her phone. “Look...this isn’t a thaumaturgical debate. We’re here to save your life and part of that process is accepting your own strength, and showing it off. But I get it…” The doctor pushed away the unnerving urges she’d begun to enjoy the more she had been watching porn and going to punk shows. “Sometimes it sucks to look in the mirror, and like what you see.” 

__

Her divine fire pushed back on the momentary spike of guilt. She was here doing what she loved. Time to leave Mara and the church outside. The clinic was safe to be the person she wanted to be right now and having watched Vola’s face as she read, she knew it was also sacred space for the half-orc. She too needed to let her real voice be heard. Inspiration struck Nat, and she held her phone out to Vola. “Let’s mix things up. You pick the music.”

__

She stared at the device. “Me?"

“Yep. No more punk. Time for Vola Radio."

The hunter stared at the blank search screen, struggling to think. Was there anything that she really connected to musically? Ahroun hated anything that wasn't a static-filled country station, and usually Dahl had some generic electronica on, easy to hear and easier to forget. Nothing that spoke to her the way punk spoke to Nat. She needed to stall.

__

“What kind of punk scene is there within the Church of Nakshatra?” 

“None.”

“So why….?”

“Dunno. It speaks to me.”

“When did you…”

“Night I met you, actually. Took a MazeCar home. Driver was in a rough way. This calmed him down.”

“Ah. Calmed him.”

__

“Yep. Calms me.”

“D-does your girlfriend like this too?” the half-orc asked without thinking. When did she decide to start interviewing the doctor?

“Nope. Fucking hates it. Hates me swearing. Hates my heathen attire. Hates that I have a libido.”

Vola held her hand up. “Got it. So full-on rebellion in progress?”   
  


A long sigh. “It's um...something. From the outside looking in I guess it looks like rebelling, but honestly it just feels right. I heard The Damned’s ‘New Rose’ and couldn’t get it out of my head. So I follow the proverbial rabbit down the hole and next thing you know I’m able to tell you my top 3 songs from the Nekromantix in order of release.”   
  


Vola chuckled. “So fangirl, not a rebel. Got it.” 

__

“Yeah I guess. I mean I’m even going to shows after work when I have the energy. I don’t really call myself a punk, or talk to anyone there, but...it's helping me, ya know? I just love how I feel when I hear it. I feel more like a person. Like I belong here. Sounds weird right?”   
  


“Not really,” Vola replied quietly. 

The Aasimar’s smile faded. “I like the way the music just washes over me. Part of me gets a bit scared because of how angry it sounds, but then I get angry and want to just do good...do more! But...that club is not ‘my’ place. I can’t just give myself over to the scene like they do. Got responsibilities and such.” Nat cleared her throat. “Find something?”

Something in the doctor’s voice triggered a memory. As it floated to the surface,  a nostalgic smile grew at the corners of Vola’s mouth. “Well, there is one song. But it's embarrassing.”

“Is it as ridiculous as screaming Sex and Violence for 2 minutes?” Nat laughed.

Vola looked up sheepishly. “Seriously? You won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

__

Vola sighed. “It's just this is something I used to listen to as a kid. I’d sing along to it loud as I could till someone told me to shut up.”

__

Nat started to prep a firm bristled brush with a few drops of Tea-Tree Oil before dipping it experimentally into the mixture. “That sucks. But if it's a song that makes you feel good, go for it. I’m the only person here and this building is well insulated. Make it loud and proud."

As she went to start the song, a lavender hand covered the screen. She looked up to see the doctor with a very serious look on her face. “I gotta warn you that we’re getting to the really unfun part. According to the text, this is going to burn, and you’re gonna have to endure it for about a half hour to forty minutes. If you feel yourself about to blackout, you have to tell me.”

She nodded solemnly in return. “Got it. I promise. I will tell you.”

“Sing. Joke. Bitch about the Elvish language. Ask me questions. Whatever it takes right now. But once I start applying the paste you’re gonna have to stay as still as possible and that’s when it could get dangerous.” Nat’s voice had a nervous tremor to it. Vola knew that the Aasimar had to be worried about this untested solution, but she had been hiding it so well. Everything she had done or suggested had only helped, so there was no reason to start doubting themselves now.

She laid her hand over Nat’s. “Got it doc. I promise. We’re gonna stop the Yuan-Ti Poison. We can do this.”

With a short nod, the healer sat on a stool in front of the scaly side of Vola’s face with the pumice stone and bowl of paste. “I have to abraide the area with the stone. So you will feel some pressure over your eye, side of your face, and anywhere the scales are growing. Do not flinch. Once that’s done, I will paint the paste over it very carefully. That’s when I need you to stay as still as possible. Hum along to the music if you have to. Do not do anything that would cause the paste to spread. I’m going to start with the patch over the eye since it is the thickest.”

Vola swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Okay...okay...okay. Let’s do this Doc."

Nat gave a nervous laugh and held the pumice stone up like a microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight only at the Market Street Free Clinic! Vola!”

__

Her thick grey thumb pressed the play button as Nat began to carefully drag the stone against the grain of the thick purple and white scales. Bouncy electronic drums and synthesizers thumped from the bluetooth speaker in the corner. 

__

_ “Yeah. Wooo! Yeahh...Woo yeah. I wantcha baby…” _ the half-orc began to sing hesitantly in a pitch that was higher than Nat had expected. She stifled an amused smirk and kept scraping.    
  
_ “Clock strikes upon the hour,   
_ _ And the sun begins to fade,   
_ _ Still enough time to figure out,   
_ _ How to chase my blues away, ”  _

Vola’ s voice grew louder and more joyous with each line. Taking a deep breath, she crested into the chorus.  __

__

_ “Ohhhhhh, I wanna dance with somebody,  
_ _ I wanna feel the heat with somebody,   
_ _ Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody,   
_ _ With somebody who loves me!” _

She wasn’t a hunter right now, or a woman fighting for her life, she was an enthusiastic six-year old dancing with abandon around the Miller’s living room. Her second foster family in six months. Their daughter was named Connie, a human girl with freckles and a brown braid like a horse tail. They’d gone to the zoo and hadn’t invited Vola. But that was okay - she didn’t like seeing all those animals in cages anyhow. The second the car had pulled out of the driveway, she’d turned on the stereo and helped herself to the cookie jar. Now, high on sugar, she kicked the air. If she was a tiger, she’d kick the door open and escape! Bet the Millers would be scared, and Connie would scream a whole bunch--

  
As the song moved into the bridge, Vola became aware of a melodious voice backing her own.  _ “Somebody oooh, somebody oooh” _ , sang Nat, who was surprisingly on key for someone who had spent about an hour shouting and snarling along to her own music. The irony brought a bright smile to Vola’s face as she belted out the final chorus.

_ "Ooooooooh, I wanna dance with somebody! I wanna feel the heeeeeaaaaat!” _ she crooned.  _ “With somebody who loves me!!” _

__

As the song came to a close, Nat stepped back and applauded. “That was awesome! So you like 80’s stuff!?” 

Vola blushed and caught her breath. “I mean, I like what I know from the radio, but Whitney is my favorite. Her voice always seems to hit me like...here.” She tapped her chest. “Did you ever see  _ The Bodyguard _ ?” 

Nat smirked and shook her head. “No. Is that a movie or show?”

“It's a movie. Basically she plays herself. Kevin Costner’s this bodyguard that’s hired to protect her and--”

“I really do wanna hear all about this, but now I need you to pick something you can listen to and keep that energy up while staying very still. I’m done abrading. So now I need to apply the paste. Got it?”

Vola nodded, and browsed through the playlists as Nat stirred the paste a few more times. Scrolling through the 80’s lists, she found one with neon colored geometric shapes on a stark purple background.

“Hey Doc?” she asked, fighting the urge to just press play. What if this was something more raucous than punk? “What’s Retro-Wave?”

Nat leaned over and looked at the screen squinting at the list of bands. “Oh. Yeah. I heard about this. Apparently it's a revitalization of the 80’s synthpop and new wave styles. Everything about the sound and fashion of the time, but filtered through an enthusiastic respect and nostalgia.” She shrugged. “Or least that’s what Wali told me.”

Vola chuckled. “You sounded like me bitching about Elvish just now.” She thumbed through the names and titles of the songs, recalling many of the old shows, movies, and video games that she grew up with. No matter what shitty household she ended up in, every single one seemed to hold on to relics of that bygone decade. “All new bands huh?”

“Supposedly.”

“Do you mind?”

“I mean, if you think it’ll work for you then sure. Just no singing. If you need to move your head, scratch your nose, or change the music, just tap me.” 

“O-okay.” Vola swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. 

__

Pressing play, she looked at the Now Playing prompt and saw the first song was  _ “Drone Racing League''  _ by  _ Gunship.  _ A gentle thumping bass and sinister synths filtered into the small exam room. The song’s artwork reminded her of an old action film she watched once. A group of silhouetted figures walked towards some dark horizon in a vast shadowy landscape, colored in blood reds, purples, and yellow. In the sky was an eclipsed sun connecting a column of light from the darkened star, to the nightmarish land. The movie she remembered was of a group of explorers who were sucked into the spirit world and had to escape. They were being stalked by a large lizard-like creature. The icon in front of her made her wonder if there was such a monster hunting these wandering souls.

As she let her good eye drift shut, the music burst into a slow snarling chord progression, like something out of one of her old horror films. The first stroke of cold paste across the eyepatch almost made her jump but Nat’s warnings won over her reflexes. She stayed as still as she could. After each broad stroke of the paste, a sudden pain erupted like the aftershock of touching a hot pan. Every nerve in the coated area screamed. An acrid coppery smell filled her nostrils. She could almost taste the citrusy and acidic mixture on her tongue. She pushed down the urge to whimper and cough, and thought again of the doomed explorers from the album art. Were they quietly wandering the harsh environment, hoping to avoid the attention of the creature stalking them?

__

_ “She's a bird,  _ _ She's a sidewinder  
_ _ Just hold on, we're in this together” _

__

The singer’s voice was soft but had a determined edge to it, as though he was aware of the dangerous space he was leading her. From beyond the shadows of the mountains, a sickening dread locked her feet in place. It reminded her of descending down into the Yuan-Ti temple The eyes of those leathery creatures watching them. Except this horror was moving. Stalking her. The music sounded like it came off an 80’s horror movie soundtrack. Inspirational but also warning. She was being hunted and it could smell her. Though each new stroke of the ice-hot paste searing the scales reminded her that she was not alone. She had someone at her side braving this unknown terrain with her. The danger stalking her across this bizarre visualization she found herself in.

In the distance, the demon creature emerged over the peak of the purple mountain. Jagged ridges of horns lined the diamond shaped brow of the approaching behemoth. Its burning red eyes locked on to her, opening its mouth to reveal double sets of massive white fangs, dripping with the same black ooze that mutated her. Its throat was a vast tunnel lined in the slimy rocks of the labyrinth. From the depths of the cavernous maw, the viral Yuan-Ti chant echoed across the empty plain. 

The serpent song clashed with the music, sinking its aural fangs into her, tightening its hold on her mindspace. The corrupted side of her face constricted, as though the chant finally had her in its grasp. All she had to do was let go, and let the oncoming monster swallow her. Bring her into that warm darkness.    
  
_ “Survive,  _ _ Overdrive  
_ _ A thousand teeth of a thousand voices  
_ _ When the sun goes down  
_ _ It goes on and on” _ _   
  
_

The giant serpent was barreling towards her. Her feet frozen to the spot, unable to move. She remembered the massive hole they had come across on their initial descent into the sewers. Was it something like this that made it? How would they have been able to beat it back with bats and crossbows?

Another music swell followed a surge of power from the side of her head. An icy burn traced pencil thin trails down her ear and neck. She imagined Nat’s face focused moving a tiny brush with the skill of a master painter across her skin. As the song went into its second chorus, she visualized golden and pink runes made of light project out from her tattoos. The glowing strings of characters wrapped around her forming a protective globe, lifting her off the lifeless black ground. The Yuan-Ti demon creature released another hypnotic hiss, which clashed uselessly against Vola’s neon mind bubble. She smirked. This really was like one of those old movies, and she was a powerful wizard doing battle on a mental plane with an ancient evil. 

Staring down the void of its throat, she saw glowing angular symbols, similar to the ones that lead her to the surface. There was something more to the symbols. Something else they were supposed to do other than act as guideposts. The strange snake figures positioned in the corners and folds. Maybe there was something to them. Some puzzle they unlocked that would banish or seal? 

__

From the safety of her mind globe, she started to mutter some arcane math under her breath, going through a litany of draconic characters that could apply to such a shape. The relic they were after was a dodecahedron. 12 sides. So if there were 12 symbols that meant 12 sides. What if….

With a hand as steady as a surgeon’s, Nat gently painted more of the corrosive chalky paste over the veins of snake scales. Peering around her patient, she could see the hunter’s hand scrawling something with a finger into the exam table. Vola’s face was a mask of concentration and the runes along the side of her head were a cascade of colors. She had seen this look before in the Abbey as some of the Radiant Priestesses projected their minds onto the astral plane. Carefully putting down her brush, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pen and notepad. Flipping to a blank page, she gently tapped Vola’s hand, pressing the pen into her grip. 

__

Inside the Eclipse-lit mindscape Vola smiled as a glowing pen suddenly manifested in her hand. The giant serpent slammed against her shield again, in a vain attempt to make her drop it. Of course it feared the pen. She was close to figuring out how to defeat it. Now she had the means to solve its puzzle once and for all. 

She smeared her hand across the invisible walls of the sphere turning the pink and gold runic threads into a solid wall of white. Now she couldn’t see the dying sun or horrible monster. Only a clear blank space. 

_ Drone Racing League _ ended, another song slowly transitioned in. Similar sounding waves of synthesizers wafted over her followed by a screaming saxophone. The vocalist’s calm and nostalgic voice painted a scene out of another 80’s movie drama. 

_ Strangers in a dark room, laughing at jokes they didn't quite hear  
_ _ Frosted window panes and cheap champagne a face appears  
_ _ And anything could happen in these cathedrals we roam  
_ _ Where shadow people dance and trade their glance and walk home alone _

__

With the glowing pen, she started to draw out the strange angular Yuan-ti Symbols, all twelve of them in a row. As they took shape they also took dimension and gravity. Physical objects she could move around and test potential solutions. Moving something was easier than writing. It distracted her from the chemical heat gnawing its way into her face. She had literally fought through pain before. Even managed to build her enchanting shed while on a sprained ankle. Puzzles blocked out the pain and she was growing ever so grateful for this one. 

“45 minutes.”, she muttered to herself. “C’mon dammit. You can solve this.” 

A violent impact along the side of her globe knocked her and the glowing symbols to the ground. The serpent had heard her. This poison knew how much time it had left to live, and it wasn’t going to go quietly. At least she had a sonic barrier made of Retro-wave to protect her. Taking a moment to bask in the surging saxophone and ascending chord synth chord progressions. If the last song was from a horror movie, then this one was from that movie she stayed up late to watch where a tall Elven man had arguments and professed his love for a half-orc woman. He said sweet things to her. Made her felt like she mattered. They were words a younger Vola had wanted to hear said to her. She wished she had been the woman being held as rain fell on a neon lit city. This was calming. She could think clearly, despite the pain. She wondered if the way this music made her feel was similar to how the Aasimar felt about punk. This wasn’t an anthem of rebellion but it was fighting of another kind. 

She folded her legs under her and started arranging the solid light Yuan-Ti symbols into a dodecahedron shape, noting how the snakes within each one were positioned. As she mentally dissected the first configuration, another wave of searing pain hit. The demon snake battered the outer walls relentlessly. Her construct fell to pieces. For a second she felt the solid ground beneath her start to flicker. Her jaw strained trying to pull open and release a cry of agony, but she swallowed it back. Her stomach rebelled against the smell of copper and acid that was filling her nostrils now. She couldn’t throw up. She couldn’t move out there. She had to stay still. She had to stay focused. 

“You’re doing good. 30 minutes to go. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Fight back!”, Nat’s voice whispered in her ear. “We’re winning. You got this.”

__

The doctor’s words of encouragement made her pause. She stopped and took a deep breath, holding it for the count of three and exhaling. The doc was still there. From the start of that dark exodus to this very moment, the Aasimar had stuck by her side. If a stranger believed in her, then she could muster more confidence in herself. Something Ahroun seemed to despise. Or fear.

Vola let the words of encouragement pulse through her, and steadied herself as another burst of caustic pain moved through her like fire. “Okay...well if that one wasn’t the answer, then maybe this way….” The half-orc started assembling the runes into their 12-sided form once more, testing yet another possibility. She had about half-an-hour to go. Plenty of time to savor this puzzle. 

__

=============================================================================

__

In the middle of her 13th configuration, Vola felt a small tap on her shoulder. She brushed it away and twisted one of the sides of the dodecahedron so that 2 of the snakes were looking at each other. “No. Well maybe. No. They pointed in the same way when I was going to the surface...so it would stand that the snakes are charting a path. Huh.” Another tap on her shoulder made her pause. “G’way. Almost done I think. Maybe. This is really tricky.”

“Heya! We’re done. You won. You can open your eyes now.” Nat’s cheery voice pierced through the dome. 

__

Blinding phosphorescent lights forced her to squint. But the light was still only visible on her left side. She still couldn’t see out of her right side. In fact the entirety of the right side of her face still felt tight. Had it actually worked? 

__

“D-doc? My right side?”

“Shhhh. Don’t move. I’m checking something.” Nat’s hand radiated the same soft white light as before, releasing the diagnostic motes of energy from her palm, bouncing them off Vola’s face. Instead of the vibrant reds and purples from before, the motes returned back pure white. “It’s gone.” 

__

The words cut through the last of her dream-like haze. “Really?”, she said wearily. She strained to look out of her right eye again, but still only saw darkness. “But...my eye.”

__

The doctor patted her hand, and took the pen and paper away, setting them on the counter. “I’m getting to that. I had to bring you around before I could start removing any of the scales. I didn’t want to risk you snapping awake and hurting you.” She sat back down on her stool and laid a wrapped scalpel down on the tray. “I need you to stay very still again. You’ve been doing good so far but do you need to stretch?”

__

Vola shook her head slightly, jaw clenched and ready to be done with it all. 

“I would give you a local anesthetic but it’s gonna mess with the magic I’ll use on you in a moment. This is gonna hurt, a lot. You can cry out if you need but you gotta stay still. Your eye is underneath.” 

“Got it,” the half-orc managed to get out. After all that, why did she feel even more nervous now? 

“So, where did you go just now?” Nat asked as she wiped the skin around the patch with an alcohol swab. 

“Whaddya mean?”

“Where did you go? In here.” A gloved finger tapped gently on her forehead. 

“Dunno. It was nice though. Made of my own magic, or willpower or whatever it was. I could think so clearly there. Put my hands on a problem and take a good hard look at it."

“Really? Is thinking clearly often a problem?"

“N-no. I mean...ya do what we do and you gotta keep your senses clear but that was….different. It felt…” Vola struggled for the right words. Letting go of that quiet space seemed to hurt more than just letting go of the puzzle. There was no clutter in there. No dirt or mold or violence or Ahroun or Dahl, or...drugs.

“I-it felt clean.” She choked on the last word.

“Clean?”

__

“Y-yeah. Normally there’s so much noise at home. So much chaos. And I can never actually sit and read. Not unless it relates to a hunt. I gotta leave, go to the library.”

“That sucks. I got the opposite problem at my place. It’s so quiet that it drives me nuts. Sounds like your paradise though.” Vola gave a polite chuckle in response. She pushed back the urge to imagine what kind of lush home the doctor lived in. How well decorated it was or...dry. How comfortable and supportive her bed was. Maybe there would be a good place by a window to set a chair and just read. 

Nat caught the wave of emotions racing across the half-orc’s face. Her instincts told her that the eye flap should be the first piece to come off but her patient had clearly told her something just now. Cutting into the thick patch of dead skin and into live skin would certainly destroy her clarity. It would erase that “clean” feeling possibly. She could feel the pressure of something the Half-Orc was trying to express, but couldn’t get out. She just needed more time. 

__

The Aasimar reached for a pair of tweezers, and gently turned Vola’s face away. “Change of plans. I’m gonna scrape the bits off your face first. Make sure the paste actually killed the cells, and also give the coats over the eye more time to settle.” 

“Is...is there something wrong with my eye?”

“No. Just being cautious. So what do you usually read at the library?”

Vola shuffled uncomfortably on the table. It was just the two of them and they just did what felt like the impossible. She forced herself past the moment of awkwardness and took a deep breath. “Um...ancient history. Arcana. I dabble a bit in alchemy too.”

“Really? That is fascinating. Anything recreational? Like fiction?”

“No. But I like doing the runic crosswords in the paper. And sudoku.”

“That’s cool.” Nat gripped the tip of one of the veins of dead scales with the tweezers and gently edged the tip of the scalpel underneath it. She moved the blade slowly, separating the white and purple scabs from grey-green skin, careful not to cut the latter. “Do they challenge you? Or are they relaxing?"

“Both. Just...there’s something...calming about it ya know. Like readingabout enchanting or alchemy. Figuring out the puzzles of the natural world. Unlocking old stories, learning a bit more about how this world works.” She winced as Nat pried back a larger scab from her earlobe. A sharp gasp of relief escaped her lips as she felt the small chunk of scales pull away from sensitive skin.

“You’re quite the triple threat. Hunter. Pop music geek. Trivia geek.”

“I’d love to do more with it.” Vola was surprised at the conviction in the words.

“Huh. You in school?” 

“No.” Ahroun had seen to that - no, she couldn’t think about that right now.

“Self-taught then? Neat. I’m doing the same with this stuff. Herbalism and Alchemy.”

Vola raised her good eyebrow. “They didn’t teach you this back at your Church?”

“Nope.”

“How long have you been practicing?” 

“Been reading about it for a week or two now, practicing things for nearly a week.”

“Two weeks!?” Vola yelped.

A firm hand pressed against her forehead, holding her down gently. “Stay still. I told you I don’t want to cut you accidentally. And yes two weeks. But I’ve got these enchantments, they help me make sense of things and absorb knowledge faster. It's why I’m already a physician’s assistant. I also have someone mentoring me.”

“That’s risky doc. what if…"

“...we messed up the recipe?” She dropped another clump into a metal waste tray. “Well, you’d be dead or missing an eye or a snake mutant. But you aren’t, because I had an awesome translator and alchemist here to help me.” 

“Godsdammit doc.” She chuckled. 

“Stop with the Doc stuff. Call me Nat. I think we’re past formal titles. So - tell me more about this clear-headedness you were feeling?”

Vola sighed and tried to think back to her mind globe. “Normally I have to hide out in the library and take some of their headphones to get that kind of clarity. This just happened.”

“Agonizing pain is a helluva motivator.”

“Nah, I mean...I felt the pain but I was able to turn it into something else. There were these symbols I saw and they formed this dodecahedron, and there as a pattern within it, that I almost figured out but then...I woke up.” The disappointment in her voice was palpable. 

“You mean your dissertation? Don’t worry, I saved it all for you.”

“Dissertation?”

“Yeah. Your hand started scribbling at a mile a minute. I gave you a pen and paper and you just went to town. Seemed important cause you went through a whole pad and wrote in like 5 languages. It's all there. I figured it was important.”

“Oh,” Vola said with relief. The possibility of returning to that enigma filled her with nervous excitement. She had written all that out? Why? What if the doc - er, Nat - had understood any of it? What if that wasn’t all she wrote down? As the questions mounted a smaller voice piped up bringing with it even in a trance-like state she had made sure to keep notes. Proof that she had used her mind to solve...something. 

“Soooo you still have yet to explain the clean feeling?”

Vola clicked her teeth. “What’s with you and my mental clarity anyways?”

Nat sighed and leaned back into her view. “How many days since you did coke?”

“Couple days...not sure. Long enough that I started to come down pretty hard.”

“But you had no other drugs on you while you were down there.”

“What are you getting at?”

“No judgement. But if I have to prescribe something for your pain later, I need to know how it’ll react.” She started tugging away at some scales on Vola’s neck. “So you use cocaine. Anything else?

Vola bit her lower lip. If a lecture about the dangers of addiction was the cost of not being a one-eyed snake lady, she could suffer through this one more pain. “Um...stuff to help me sleep.”

“Anything in particular?”, Nat asked as she pulled what felt like the final dots of scales from under her jaw.

“No, just whatever we can get our hands on. Usually anything to help with pain, or get us through the night.”

Nat cleared her throat and started on the eyebrow. “Okay. Next question. How often?”

Vola winced as a long strip was pulled from her chin to jaw. “Almost every night. Maybe multiple times a day. I mean it depends.”

“On?” 

“Um...if I’m trying to get some peace in the house, or recovering, or over at um...my guy’s house.”

“Your guy?” A hint of curiosity danced under her tone.

“Yeah. Um...we hook up, have fun. Blow off steam.”

“You do anything with him you don’t do at the house?”

“Opium.”, Vola stopped herself from slapping a hand over her mouth at the quick answer. “Um..and heroin, sometimes. But I don’t like it.”

“Recreational use there as well?”

“Yeah.” Her cheeks grew hot as she continued to confess details of her life that she didn’t even talk about with her family. What about Nat was so different that she could do this?

__

“Okay, I’m gonna start cutting into the eye patch. Stay still. Before I do, one last question.”

“Sh-shoot”, she replied hesitantly. 

“Did you ever do puzzles or research while high? Or do any alchemy stuff while you were under the influence?”

She held still and considered her answer as she felt the doctor’s hand press down on the skin flap. A brilliant red line of pain bloomed behind her eye as a sharp blade tore through tissue along the length of her eyebrow and down around the socket. Biting the inside of her cheek, she pushed through the urge to scream and thought about the question. To her recollection she had never been able to concentrate on research or projects while in the house, and she knew better than to do any alchemy while stoned. Dahl had once asked if she could use “that pretty brain” of hers to cook him up something fun once. She vaguely recalled not talking to him for two months after that. 

Pushing through the memories of anything related to celebrations or post hunt recovery was like being lost in a swamp. Hard to breathe or see clearly. Something about enchanting and alchemy felt sacred, especially after tonight. She hated the idea that when she got back, the fog would return. She hated that the drugs would rob her of this feeling. She couldn’t let the dirt and rot of her family or Dahl touch it. 

Ahroun could bang her up all he wanted, but she would never let him have her brain.

Light flooded into her right eye as a sharp tug pulled away the eye patch. Thin threads of sinew snapped like rubber bands forcing tears to well up. The brittle tearing sound filled her with relief as cool air danced along her skin. She hadn't felt the siren's pull of the chant since Nat roused her. 

She could see. She had survived. She nervously turned to see Nat smiling as she deposited the bloody bleach white chunk of scales into a petri dish piled with the rest. She searched the doctor’s face for any sign of judgement or disappointment only to see relief, and...admiration? 

“I-I….why aren’t you preaching to me? Why does this feel so much better? What am I doing to myself?” Vola asked. Her voice quavered. 

Nat stroked her dreads and forehead before silently returning to her task. Overwhelmed by the silent compassion, Vola sobbed quietly, tears running down raw cheeks.

  
============================================================================


End file.
